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A Journal My Friend Found
So back in 1999 me and my co-worker Jon had to go through this old house and he found this old journal that scared the fuck out of me. I haven't heard from Jon since then. Anyway here's the chat log from when he was alone in the house one night. Also im dan29 just incase the was some confusion. Also don't ask why the guy wrote it like it was meant to be read, I guess he though some one would find it. [ CHAT OPENED 7/12/99 FROM 192.120.20.264] dan29: hey dude you find anything at the old place? jonny17: yeah i just found this journal at that old house we were looking at and i found some pretty freaky shit. ill send you the info. jonny17:November 10, 1809 Wife said I should get a journal to write down my thoughts. She said it may help to calm my nerves. So I guess I should tell a bit about myself, I'm and artist and I like to paint landscapes. I have made a lot of money doing this and I love what I do even though it is stressful. I have a wife and daughter, my wife is Caroline and my daughter is Mary. I don't really like people so it's amazing I have a wife and child at all but, I'm glad I do. November 12, 1809 Today I sold a painting of a locals house. They loved it and I was happy. It was a small house but it had a really nice charm, a sense of home, the kind I have around my family. December 5, 1809 I forgot about this old thing. I'll try to keep it this time. December 6, 1809 Something weird happend today, I went for a walk to the store to get some more paints and i saw this man who looked like he just saw a dead body or some sort of disaster. I asked him if he was ok and he tried to attack me. The shop owner had to knock him out to stop him. I had some scrapes and a gash on my cheek but I was ok overall. December 8, 1809 I've started hearing voices in my head. My wife said it was most likely stress and, she's probably right. I'm gonna take it easy for a few days. December 17, 1809 The voices wont stop. They laugh at me, tell me I'm worthless, tell my to die. I'll just paint. December 19, 1809 The people didn't like my painting. They said it's violent and disturbing. They're fools, they don't know real art. The voices do, they loved it. They tell me to make them pay for what they said. I will make them pay. December 20, 1809 They were so sad that their sweet little boy and girl were killed. The screams were beautiful, like music, the vioces where happy. The organs were tasty, they give me strength. I think my next painting shall have a lot of red. December 22, 1809 I am an artist. The colors are my soul and the paper is my home. The absract art was bought, they thought they saw two faces in it. A boy, and a girl. I could see it in the splatter too. December 23, 1809 My wife found out what i did. The vioces told me to do what was best for the art. It wasn't hard to cut her throat, sure she put up a fight, kicking and screaming for help but she wasn't worthy. December 24, 1809 The neighbors got the police and they saw me eating supper. I told them to sit down but they didn't listen so, I shot them and ate them too. December 25, 1809 Merry Christmas. My present was Mary and me at the dinner table. I had a good time slicing the meat while it tried to get away but, we both knew it wouldn't work. April 9, 1810 Why did the voices leave me? Why? April 10, 1810 They paint is tainted with the souls of the victims, the walls are filled with the corpses. The bed is covered with the blood. I have no regrets, no remorse, no reason. They left me. The police are bashing down the doors but, I am ready with a knife. They can't stop me. Even if I die tonight I will never leave. dan29: that kinda weird man, sounds kinda fucked up but hey, we get paid right? dan29: jon you there? dan29: jon answer me please im not fucking around! {:USER jonny17 DISCONNECTED:} OF CHAT Category:Creepypasta Category:Creepypastas Category:Original Story Category:Real Life